


Backfiring

by durgasdragon



Series: After the War [5]
Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-18
Updated: 2011-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/durgasdragon/pseuds/durgasdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To stick it to the man, Seifer helps Zell out and things explode in his face</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backfiring

**Author's Note:**

> Fifth in a series

  
  
**Backfiring**   
  


_Disclaimer: This is a purely fan-made piece that is using the world and characters from Squaresoft’s (Square Enix)_ Final Fantasy VIII _and is made entirely for enjoyment. No financial gain has been made in the making of this piece. All other situations and plot development are mine._

 _Summary: To stick it to the man, Seifer helps Zell out and things explode in his face_

 _Author’s Note: Sequel to ‘On the Roof’, but can be read alone. Possible out-of-characterness and un-beta’d_

 _Constructive Criticism is always welcomed_

 _Published: 26 April 2010_

 _Rating: T_

Seifer watched as the younger psychologist shift around awkwardly and savagely hoped she was exceedingly uncomfortable. Perhaps if she got uncomfortable enough, she would leave like the other two interns, forcing the main shrink to have to find yet another one.

Then maybe the morons would get the idea that this whole ‘fix-poor-Seifer’s-brainwashed-brain’ plan was a bunch of bullshit. There was _nothing_ wrong with him other than his inability to pick the winning side.

The senior psychologist—Seifer had named him Freud’s Quack—sighed and took off his glasses. “Seifer,” he said in his ‘I’m-not-a-patronising-condescending-bastard- _really_ -I’m-not’ tone of voice, “we can’t help you if you won’t let us.”

Seifer kept up his glare. They could make him go to these damn sessions, but they couldn’t make him co-operate. It was almost fun, refusing to talk and watching them get frustrated that they couldn’t entirely get their way.

It served the pompous asses right, too.

Did they _honestly_ think that he was just going to suddenly have a little snivelling cadet moment and pour his heart out to them just like _that_ so they could analyse him? Did they think that he was going to _want_ to be their lab rat? Did they assume that he was just suddenly going to see the light and want to talk to them?

See if Freud’s Quack got that Fellowship now, the fucker. All the ass wanted was the fame of being the one who ‘fixed’ the Sorceress’s Knight; Seifer had seen the paperwork and read the ‘good doctor’s’ plans and pleas for money for his goals of ‘healing’ Seifer.

Seifer Almasy was _no-one’s_ experiment.

Freud’s Quack tried again. “We want to help you, Seifer. But we can’t start the process of healing until you talk to us.”

The younger shrink squirmed in her chair again, Seifer noticed with malicious glee. She probably was going to hand in her notes after the session today. He gloried silently in the inconvenience this would cause for Dr Dumbass.

“I know how hard it must be for you—” Freud’s Quack started, but the second hand had crossed the twelve on the clock. The hour was up.

Seifer stood up and enjoyed how both psychologist shrunk back a little bit, the younger one clenching her clipboard to her chest. He made sure to slam the door behind him, almost wishing he could see them jump at the noise.

His guards looked up and then scrambled after him as he strolled out passed them. He ignored them and swept down the hallway, paying no heed to the people who scattered in front of him.

He decided he didn’t want to go and sit in the last ten minutes of class; it wasn’t as if he didn’t know all the crap they taught there anyhow—hell, he could teach the class in his _sleep_ if he wanted. Anyhow, the damn thing was taught in the Lecture Hall, so it was impossible enter discreetly. He had no intentions of going through another bout of mocking ridicule from the instructor and the oh-so-perfect-and- _timely_ cadets.

His ‘guards’ grumbling, he swept into Cafeteria. Despite its tendency to have too many angry and bitter people it, he liked the Cafeteria. The ladies who ran the food line were always courteous and sometimes, they were even nice. Part of that was probably because he had never given them any trouble or attitude—before or after the War—and he made sure to always thank them. They were the third (and last) group to return to treating Seifer normally.

It was for purely selfish reasons—pissed off food workers could make your life a living hell on so many different levels and if there was one thing Seifer loved, it was his digestive tract. By showing the Cafeteria ladies an iota of politeness and respect, he not only kept them from giving him food poisoning or burnt food, but he kept them from making his already miserable life from sinking to new levels of hell.

He was half-way through his salad when a deflated-looking Zell plopped into the chair next to Seifer. “Squall won’t listen to me,” he said dejectedly, by way of a greeting before Seifer could tell him to fuck off. “He doesn’t believe me that you don’t need that nutcase to try and pick your brain.”

“You’re still trying to get him to cut the torture sessions?” Seifer couldn’t believe it. It had been nearly two months now and he was starting to accept it was something else he could never change and would just be forced to live with. But to hear that Zell was still trying, even after all the walls he’d been hitting...

Maybe he should recommend Chicken Wuss for Freud’s Quack to check out. It sounded like the moron needed the sessions more than Seifer did. The very _definition_ of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

“Yeah,” Zell sighed and took a big bite out of his hot dog. “Ish not fahr,” he said around the wad of food in his mouth. “Dey keep dummin’ shhit onya an’ ‘spec ya ta be hap’y ‘boutit.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s fuckin’ disgusting. Nobody wants to see what you’ve done to your food, you uncultured swine.”

Zell swallowed. “Sorry.” He wiped his wrist across his mouth. “But I’m beginnin’ to feel at a loss, ya know? I’m runnin’ outta thin’s to say.”

“That’ll be a first.”

He cuffed Seifer half-heartedly, only leaving a small bruise. He was silent for all of thirty seconds—his usual limit—before he was bouncing again. “Hey! Since we’re gonna be in Balamb this weekend, Ma’s gunna have a fish fry an’ she wants me to invite all my friends! Fujin an’ Raijin already said they can come! What about you? Wanna join the fun?”

“Have you cleared with the Garden Admin Board?”

“What?”

Seifer repeated the question slowly, for the Chicken Wuss’s sake. “Because if you haven’t, don’t fuckin’ ask me.”

Zell gave him a blank stare. “What?”

He sighed. _Dumbass_. “All of my coming and goings from the Garden have to be monitored or else I might go out terrorising the local populace. I need special permission to leave and extra lampreys need to be assigned if I leave for non-mission or field exams. It’s very important they know where I’m going to be at all times when I’m not enclosed in these safe, comforting, caring walls.”

Zell stared. “Are you shittin’ me? Is that for _real_?”

“These rules are in place for my own safety, of course.” Seifer speared a piece of cubed ham from his jacket potato viciously.

“But...but...but how are you gunna become a SeeD if you can’t go out an’ train an’ stuff?”

“Don’t be a fuckin’ moron. I’m not _going_ to become a SeeD. Nobody’s going to hire me for missions. They only keep me here so they can keep tabs on me and if a suicide mission comes up, they’ll have someone to use. I _might_ get used as an absolute _last_ resort for very specialised missions—but only if they can have me under extreme supervision, but they aren’t going to ever give me a rank, much less a paycheque!”

An aghast expression settled on Zell’s tattooed face. “They can’t do that!”

“Why not? Who’s gonna stop them?”

“But that’s not fair! What about your _rights_?!”

Seifer snorted. “Haven’t you gotten the memo, Chicken Wuss? I don’t _have_ any.”

 _Worthless child. Silly little boy. I have no use for little boys. Go run away and play somewhere else. Don’t come back until you can serve me properly._

Her words—always in the background, always there, always circling—spun to the forefront violently. He shoved them back harshly. He didn’t need the reminders. He looked for something to focus on—anything, at this point, would be fine.

The Chicken’s fists were clenched so tightly the tough dragon skin creaked dangerously and provided the necessary distraction. “They can’t do that!”

“Says who?” Seifer sighed, suddenly tired of the whole thing. “Drop it, Chicken Wuss.”

“But—!”

“I said DROP IT.”

Zell twitched, clearly fighting with his desire to argue further and Seifer’s orders. “I’ll get you clearance for this weekend if I have to...have to...have to kiss malboro!”

“Make sure that someone gets a picture of that for me.”

“You are going to be able to come!” Zell said fiercely, as if the more times he said it, the more likely it would occur.

“Whatever, Chicken Wuss. Talk to me after it happens. Until then, shut the fuck up.”

Thirty seconds, then—

“Hey, d’ja hear that they’re makin’ new rules for the library?”

Seifer rolled his eyes.

xXxXxXxXxXx

“Hey, where’s Zell?” Raijin asked, looking around the common area they shared. “He knows it’s movie night, ya know?”

“BUGGING STILL.” Fujin threw Seifer a pillow. “HARASSING SQUALL.”

Seifer craned his neck. “The dumbass is still doing that? What a fuckin’ idiot.”

“SWEET.” She corrected him sharply. “WANTS THERE.”

“It’ll be good to have you there, ya know?” Raijin flopped down on the couch. “And _man_! Can Miz D _cook_!” He looked dreamy for a moment, then shoved a large handful of popcorn into his mouth.

Fujin kicked his legs off of the couch. “PIG! SHARE!”

“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” He sprayed flecks of food in his haste to apologise and shoved the bowl of popcorn at his girlfriend to appease her.

Seifer rolled his eyes and adjusted the pillow behind his back. “Well, if the fucktard wants to bead his head against the Garden Admin’s ass, let him. It means he’s not bugging me.”

Fujin glared. “BE NICE.”

“Zell’s pretty cool, ya know?”

He snorted. “If you like hyperactive annoyances, sure, then he’s _great_.” He hit the play button, efficiently ending all conversations (Fujin _hated_ people who talked during movies).

They were at Seifer’s favourite part—not that he’d ever admit it was, because that would make him sound _sappy_ and _stupid_ and like some romantic _baby_ —when the damn Wuss can bouncing in. “Guess what! Squall says—” His mouth kept flapping in surprise as words suddenly left him.

Fujin glared. “MOVIE,” she said sharply, dropping her pouch of silence powder into her pocket.

Seifer sniggered slightly at the dumbass’s face. Clearly, he’d forgotten the lengths Fujin would go to ensure that her movie remained uninterrupted.

Zell twitched through the rest of the movie, annoying the _piss_ out of Seifer. He hoped that Fujin would leave the irritation silenced through the credits, but since she—for whatever god-forsaken reason— _liked_ the idiot, she threw him an echo screen as soon as the first white letters rolled across the black screen.

“Sorry, Fu,” Chicken Wuss said the moment he got his voice back. “Didn’t remember it was movie night.”

She nodded graciously. “ACCEPTED.”

He flashed her a toothy grin before turning towards Seifer. “Anyhow, Squall says that he’ll get you authorisation to come to Ma’s if you agree to volunteer to go on my mission tomorrow!” He sat back, looking enormously pleased with his ability to annoy the crap out of people until he got his way. “So we leave tomorrow at 0500 hours an’ you should really make sure you’ve got—”

“Wait a damn minute!” He was not—repeat _not_ —having this conversation. He wasn’t fuckin’ _desperate_ , which how they were going to read it if he agreed to go along with this shit! “You should wait for my answer before starting to run at your mouth and in case you were wondering, the answer is NO.”

“But _Seifer_ ,” stupid big blue eyes looked up at him. “You can’t come ta Ma’s otherwise!”

“Man, those terms ain’t so bad, ya know?” Raijin piped up. “’Sides, ya _gotta_ come! It won’t be no fun wit’outcha there!”

“You’ll get to miss your sessions for two days,” Zell, apparently, was going to try a different angle.

He might have hit gold with that one. Two days without Freud’s Quack breathing down the back of his neck wasn’t something he could immediately dismiss.

“But let me guess,” he drawled, still not ready to give in, “I’m going to do this out of the _goodness_ of my heart and expect _no_ money or credits or class hours or anything useful like that if I take up this dumb-ass plan, aren’t I?”

Zell’s tattooed face fell a little. “No,” he looked a little bit dejected, “you won’t. I couldn’t talk Squall into that. But”—here he brightened up like a flare spell—“at least you’ll be able to come this weekend!”

Priceless. The Garden got to save money—his skills should cost as much as—if not _more_ than—Princess Fascist Dictator’s, damn it!—and his reward would be weekend with the Stupider Twins and Fujin’s steel-toed boots.

Princess Headmaster was expecting Seifer to turn it down, that much was clear—was banking on it, in fact. The blow to Seifer’s pride would make him turn it down, and Seifer felt pretty sure that the snobby, selfish bastard expected him to be a dink about it, just to spite the Wuss’s efforts.

Frankly, Rinoa’s current living dildo was right; it wasn’t worth it, as far as Seifer was concerned. He was good—one of the best—and for him to stoop so low grated.

But there were bigger things at stake; namely, proving the Fuhrer knew jack-shit about him and getting out of Freud Quack’s little plot.

It also might get Zell, Fujin, and Raijin to shut the fuck up, but that, he figured, was an added bonus.

And Mrs D _really_ had a mean fish fry.

This did not mean that he was going to go all _fuzzy_ or that he was going to be forced to ‘play nice’ with the annoyance.

Seifer stretched and stood up. “Whatever, I don’t give a flying fuck, Chicken Wuss. You can tell that sad, pathetic excuse of gunblader”—he heard one of his guards draw in a scandalised breath and jump to their feet, probably ready to defend the Fascist Dictator’s ‘honour’ or some such shit—“to _shove_ it up his ass and that I’m going to miss his next meeting on this ‘Cultural Revolution’ he’s planning to distract from his incompetence.”

“Was that an affirmative for tomorrow or a negative?” He heard Zell ask in a slightly bemused tone.

“Dunno. Don’t think it was a ‘no’, but I ain’t sure ‘bout it bein’ a ‘yes’, ya know?”

“WILL BE,” Fujin muttered darkly. “OR ELSE.”

Seifer rolled his eyes and grabbed his toothbrush. They could spend all night on that for all he cared. Maybe if Zell and Raijin put their heads together, they might make a half-wit.

In the meantime, they had better be fuckin’ _quiet_ about it because going to go to bed and sucked enough that he _still_ wasn’t allowed to close his door. He didn’t want to be forced to listen to the idiot twins going on and on more than he needed to.

xXxXxXxXxXx

“FUJIN! What the _hell_! Get out!”

She gave him an appraising—almost smug—look. “GOING?”

“No, I just like to shave at 0400! Get the fuck out!”

She nodded, a pleased expression settling on her face. “GOOD.”

“I said get OUT!” Seifer waved his straight razor in her face. “Or I’m going to dull the blade on your throat!”

“VAIN BASTARD.” She sounded _way_ too self-satisfied and cheerful for having barged into the bathroom at such an ungodly hour. “WON’T TELL. BEAUTY SECRETS SAFE.”

Seifer growled. “Fujin, I swear to Hyne above if you don’t get the hell out of here within the next ten seconds and let me do my morning routine in peace, I’m going to flay you alive!”

Fujin laughed at him. LAUGHED at him! “TOWEL’S FALLING,” she pointed out smugly and slammed the door on his curses.

 _Fuckin’ bitch_. Still snarling, he turned back to the mirror and wiped the steam off again. Just because his _life_ was a complete and utter _disgrace_ didn’t mean that he had to look like it was!

xXxXxXxXxXx

Zell’s face nearly split he was grinning so hard. He kept bouncing on his toes and shooting Seifer delighted little glances. He was acting so stupid and happy, like someone had promised him free hot dogs or a birthday cake or something pathetic like that.

It was _really_ fuckin’ annoying.

Seifer glared at the moron. It only served to make Zell grin harder. Didn’t the stupid bastard know it was too fuckin’ early to be this happy?

The other two cadets were clearly on the other end of the spectrum. Neither of them looked even _close_ to being thrilled to have Seifer there. In fact, both of them wouldn’t get with in a certain distance of him which was—Seifer noted with a certain level of malevolent delight—almost _exactly_ the reach of his gunblade.

He almost wished for a camera when Zell announced cheerfully that Seifer would be the second-in-command. Zell—being the dumbass that he was—ignored it and acted like they were some sort of big, happy family. “So there have been some reports of strange monsters harassin’ the fishermen on the northern side of the island here, an’ we’ve been commissioned to check it out! We’re gonna get a boat an’ investigate it! I don’t think it’s much, so if we hurry and catch the tides, we can be home in time for dinner!” He started jogging towards the garage.

It was almost funny watching the look of absolute _horror_ cross the cadets’ faces when they realised they had to ride in the same car as Seifer. He was going to make them twitch more by sitting in the back so they’d be forced to not only break rank, but come within range of him. Unfortunately, Zell ruined it by insisting that Seifer sit up next to him so he could talk Seifer’s ear off.

The reception only got warmer at the docks. The grizzled fisherman glared at Seifer with thinly disguised dislike and distrust and his son’s face showed open hatred. The old man tried to—at least—veil his anger out of respect for Zell, it seemed, as he made a valiant attempt at half-baked politeness and civility as long as Zell was within earshot, but his son couldn’t seem to be bothered to put the same effort forwards and slipped out of sight moments later.

Apparently, there was a problem with the original boat so Zell had to compromise and negotiate for a new one. Bored, Seifer wandered over to the railing looked out over the water. He could see the slimy son arguing with someone on a phone out of the corner of his eye and other boats gliding out to sea.

Zell haggled more. The other two cadets—tired of standing around—finally stopped trying to show Seifer up one and sat on the curb, gossiping quietly among themselves. Seifer watched the waves to see if he could see any dolphins.

The fisherman’s son slammed the phone down and paced for a moment before disappearing into his house. Gulls laughed and cried as they followed the ocean breeze. Zell waved his arms around a bit. The fisherman’s son left the house with a small suitcase and vanished in the bowels of one of the ships.

Seifer was beginning to think that his head was going to fall off from sheer boredom when the son wandered back up. “They can use the _Kawachi_ ,” he said.

The old fisherman looked suspicious, but he said nothing.

The first ring of a warning bell went off in Seifer’s head.

It grew to full pealing when the _Kawachi_ turned out to be the one that Seifer had seen the son on earlier.

He said nothing because first, he wasn’t some paranoid, self-centred, little _weakling_ and secondly, Zell was impatient to get going and ordering everyone around to get the mission going and the boat out.

Suspicion gnawed at him and he— _finally_ —got a moment to slip below deck to see exactly why the sullen son had been so eager to let them borrow this boat.

He found it back nestled between the barrels of oil and the cans of spare gas.

It wasn’t a big bomb by any stretch of the imagination, but its location was too convenient.

It didn’t help that there was less than three minutes left.

He wasted a few moments staring at the blinking red numbers. Then he pulled himself together and moved.

Ignoring the voice that whispered _your only purpose is to protect me_ , he strolled up on to the deck and wasted no time grabbing the two stupid tagalong cadets and throwing them overboard.

“Seifer!” The stupid chicken squawked as he dodged Seifer’s grasp. “What the hell are you DOIN’?!”

There wasn’t _time_ for this. Seifer growled and swung his arm as hard as he could into the moron’s gut.

While big blue eyes watered and looked up at him with the pained look of someone betrayed, Seifer shoved Zell into the ocean.

He dove at the engine room and kicked the boat into high speed, steering as to get as far away from the Chicken Wuss and his little team as he could.

He hoped it would be enough.

He hoped he had just enough time.

He hoped that this—

 **  
_BOOM!_   
**

xXxXxXxXxXx

“S…i...r?! S…Fer?! Hol…! …n’t! Se…f?! C…n …y …ear …e?! D…n’t di…! H…ar me?! …N’t di…!”

xXxXxXxXxXx

 _Will you die for me?_

xXxXxXxXxXx

There was the strangest sensation in his limbs.

Someone was shouting, begging.

He couldn’t feel his eyelids.

Was someone talking to him?

It wasn’t Her, so it didn’t matter.

He faded.

xXxXxXxXxXx

 _My knight must be ready to defend me and my honour at all times. You must be ready to die for it at any moment. Will you do that for me? Be my knight? Face death if I ask you to? Can you be the man that I need and not a pathetic little boy?_

 _Are you ready to die for me?_

xXxXxXxXxXx

He hurt.

Fuckin’ _everywhere._

Wasn’t he supposed to be dead?

xXxXxXxXxXx

 _Weakling. Useless. Pathetic little boy._

 _If I tell you that you will die, you will do so._

 _And I have not given you that order, so GET UP._

xXxXxXxXxXx

Light.

“Hey! HEY! He’s opening his eyes!”

Blurry blue and blond and black shapes.

“Seifer? Seif? Seifer, can you hear me? Seif?”

Fuzzy grey and black.

“SEIFER?”

Dark brown and black and shadows.

“Is he up? Can he hear us, ya know? Let me see!”

Light again.

“All of you, back up! Let me take a look at him!”

White.

“Seifer? Blink if you understand me.”

The need to obey was too ingrained for him not to follow.

Should it hurt so much to try and blink?

Or be so exhausting?

“Good, now do you know…”

The words faded as his eyes fell shut again.

xXxXxXxXxXx

 _Will you die for me?_

xXxXxXxXxXx

“Seifer? Hyne, Seif, don’t die! Seifer?”

xXxXxXxXxXx

 _Have I TOLD you that you can die yet?_

xXxXxXxXxXx

Something was happening to his hair. Painfully, he tried to stop it, but since his arms didn’t seem to be working at the moment, he settled for opening his eyes to glare.

It turned more into a squint because the light in the room hurt his eyes.

The movement to his hair stopped abruptly. “Seifer?”

The voice sounded small and tired, but familiar. He tried to focus his eyes so he could have a face to go with the voice, but it took him so long to get his eye to work that the face had moved and he had to start all over again.

“Fff… fffuk… fukkin…” He finally got out pasted his jagged throat. “Fukkin… sstpp… mmuuuvin.”

The whole body froze and he final got his eyes to recognise a memorable black tattoo before the face moved again.

“You’re awake!” Zell flung himself across Seifer’s chest and crushed him.

“Ger… gerroff… ame,” Seifer wheezed, voice old and brittle and cracked.

“They said you might not wake again,” Zell mumbled into his neck, clearly _not_ getting off and clutching him like some damn favourite chocobo toy. “An’ your heart nearly stopped last week and they don’t know how well you’ll heal ‘cuz Regen ain’t doin’ as much for you as they hoped it would because too much tissue was damaged or somethin’ and _WHY_ the _fuck_ didn’t you get off that boat with the rest of us?!”

The whole rant built to a fevered pitch, coming to head at Zell’s question. The smaller boy shook and Seifer realised with delayed shock that Zell was _crying_.

Crying because he had been _afraid_ for Seifer.

The idea that anyone would shed a tear over him was too foreign a concept for even when his brain wasn’t addled with pain and drugs and magic, so he decided vaguely that he would handle it later.

“Kr…kribabi.” He tried to muster some distain or disgust into his voice, but it came out weakly affectionate.

Zell didn’t let go of him and snuffled. “What the hell were you _thinking_?! You coulda _died_! How did you know that bomb was there and WHY didn’t you say somethin’?! Hyne!” He took a shaky breath. “You coulda _died_ …” He scrubbed at his cheek with the back of his hand.

“Wuhddt…effah.”

“No! Don’t you ‘whatever’ me! I haven’t lost a close friend yet and I’m not going to now—especially not under my command! This is _serious_ , Seifer!”

Seifer was spared from trying to force out another response when Dr Kadowaki stuck her head in. “Zell! Get off of him! I’m trying to fix him here, not flatten him!”

Zell slid off awkwardly and Seifer took a deep breath, lungs rejoicing at being freed.

The doctor took his pulse and checked his eyes. “How many fingers am I holding up?” She asked when she stepped back a moment later.

Seifer forced his eyes to focus. “Fhhhee.” The effort made his head throb.

Dr Kadowaki looked pleased before her face shifted to stern. “You’re very lucky to be alive, young man. That was an incredibly stupid thing you did. Brave, but _quite_ stupid. It’s going to take you a while to recover from this, as magic can only go so far in healing that kind of damage. You’re going to need plenty of rest…” She paused and looked at him. “You’d like to go back to sleep, wouldn’t you?”

Hyne, he thought she’d _never_ ask. He sighed slightly in relief and immediately blacked out.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Seifer was bored. Officially and completely and utterly bored.

This whole healing thing sucked.

He was a man of _action_. Lying flat on his back for days on end did not suit a man of action.

Especially since most of his distractions seemed to be the Stupider Twins and Fujin.

Raijin and Fujin weren’t too bad, if the Chicken Wuss wasn’t in the room. Unfortunately, Zell had seemed to think that he was in Seifer’s debt or something and thus rarely left his side. No matter how rude, abrasive, or insulting Seifer got, the dumbass refused to leave; he only smiled brighter and started chattering _more_.

And the damn doctor refused to kick him out.

 _Fuckin’ bitch._

This was worse than the time Zell had thought that Seifer had saved his life; now people thought that they had _proof_ of Seifer saving not only the dumbo’s life, but two others. Cadets and Facility members kept peering in at him, like he was some sort of two-headed cow. Quistis would stop by and try to give him lectures on his ‘bravery’, but then would go off on a tirade on the importance of not ‘being the hero all the time’. Squall would just grunt out affirmative noises and glare.

The worst thing, though, was now Freud’s Quack could harass him for long periods of time and he couldn’t do a _thing_ about it. No-one would tell the guy to go fuck off and he couldn’t leave the room to get away from the moron—not for lack of trying. Dr Kadowaki had started to threaten to tie him to the bed to stop him from doing that again.

The moment that the Chicken Wuss heard this, it seemed to remind him how Seifer got stuck on the hospital bed in the first place. After a few really, _really_ annoying guilt sessions, Zell had decided to fix things _his_ way.

Seifer told the moron where to shove _that_ idea.

He did, however, turn the charm on and tried to be nice to the dipstick when Mrs D showed up, with a basket full of fried fish, baked beans, chicken potato salad, and fresh chocolate chip cookies—made with coconut and vanilla and walnuts, just the way Seifer liked them. There was no _way_ he’d make Mrs D mad—not when she brought all that fabulous food and fussed over him like he was someone worth caring about.

Seifer proposed marriage to her after she chased out Freud’s Quack, telling him that _he_ was the one needing therapy and to leave that poor boy alone! Couldn’t he see that he needed to rest and time to heal?

She only laughed at him and said he was young enough to be her son. If she was twenty years younger, however, it’d be a different story…

“MA!” Zell shrieked when she waggled her eyebrows at Seifer.

The room felt empty when everyone left that night. Not that Seifer _needed_ people or _wanted_ them around. It was just that the room had been…better with Fujin and Raijin and Mrs D…and Zell, if he really wanted to be honest with himself.

But only because the imbecile was fun to pick on.

Seifer was surprised, however, when Zell showed up the next day and then refused to leave when Freud’s Quack showed up. Instead, the hyperactive annoyance spent the hour telling the shrink that he thought that the doctor had daddy issues. And an inferiority complex. And bulimia. And schizophrenia. And depression. And an Electra Complex—

“Electra Complexes are what _girls_ have, dumbass! _Oedipus_ Complexes are what guys have!” Seifer was so annoyed at Zell’s stupidity that he broke down and said something in front of the shrink.

“Oh, right! Thanks! Yeah, I think you’ve got an Oedipus Complex goin’ on here, man! See, you see Seif here as your da, an’ he’s getting’ in the way of you gettin’ at your ma—this paper your tryin’ to write without anyone’s permission—an’ you have ta castrate an’ emasculate him so you can make it happen! After you kill’em, of course. You’ve build this whole thin’ up, all ‘cuz you didn’t get enough salt and love as a baby! Your turds have been sinkin’ recently, haven’t they? It’s symbolic of yer current failings in life and love—”

“Seifer, our hour is up, it seems.” Freud’s Quack grabbed all his papers. “Perhaps we’ll continue our sessions once you are no longer bedridden. I shall see you then!”

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” Zell called after him, waving a tich _too_ cheerfully. He grinned widely as he turned back to Seifer. “That was fun! Can we do that again?”

“Go away, Chicken. I’m tired.”

“Oh! Right! The whole healin’ thin’! I’ll shut up! Right now! You get some rest!” Zell—clearly _not_ leaving—pulled out magazine and started thumbing through it.

Seifer glared at him. Nothing happened. He glared harder. Still no response.

Finally, he gave up and shut his eyes. Maybe if he pretended long enough, the shithead would get bored and leave and then he wouldn’t have to listen to that incessant off-keyed unconscious humming that came from the idiot’s throat.

He must have dozed off, because when he opened his eyes again, the shadows on the ceiling had moved. The room was empty and a cold plate of food sat next to him.

The peace didn’t last long.

“Have a nice nap?” Zell sounded cheerful as he bounced into the room.

“Chicken Wuss, why don’t you jump off the highest point of the Garden into the ocean or something?”

“Well,” Zell scratched the back of his head. “You’d get lonely! And I think you’re lonely enough already! Ou! Guess what! I smuggled you a hot dog! Fresh!”

Seifer looked at the slightly squashed food Zell was happily shoving in his face. “That’s one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever heard of someone doing.”

“It’s the least I could do!”

“No, the least you could do is to go the fuck away and leave me alone.”

Zell gave him a level stare. “Seif, for bein’ so smart, you’re really a dumbass. Whether you wanted to or not, you’ve saved my life twice now. You sit wit’ me at meals—”

“I do not! _You_ sit at _my_ table!”

“—An’ you talk to me. Face it, man, we’re friends. Good friends, at that.”

Like _hell_ they were! “Like _hell_ we are!” Oh HYNE, what repulsive thought! Seifer Almasy did _not_ —repeat _not_ —make ‘friends’, _especially_ with _idiots_ like the Wuss! “Your inability to go away does _not_ make us friends! I don’t like you and will _never_ stoop so low!”

Zell looked hurt for a moment, then glared at him. “What are my favourite colours?”

“What kind of harebrained—”

“C’mon, jus’ answer it. Or does the Great Seifer not know such a little piece of trivia?”

“It’s red, what the fuck—”

“What’s Selphie’s favourite colour?”

“How the fuck should I know!”

“Quistis’s?”

“Who knows and who cares! What does this have—”

“Irvine’s?”

“The colour of his brain as it melts of his ears from an STD! I don’t care!”

The idiot beamed at him. “See? You know little thin’s ‘bout me that you don’t know ‘bout others! We’re friends!”

Seifer narrowed his eyes. The annoyance had won a point and _knew_ it. “Did you ever stop and put that empty head to some work and think that maybe I know these things because you can’t shut up?”

Zell actually thought about this for a moment. “Nah, that’s not it. You’re just in denial, that’s all.” Another wide, toothy grin was flashed at him. “You just don’t want to admit you couldn’t go a day without hearin’ my brilliant thoughts an’ seein’ my stunningly good looks!”

Seifer rolled his eyes. “No, that’s _my_ stunningly good looks and intelligence that you can’t live without, moron. You don’t even have enough brains to tempt a zombie.”

For some reason, this made the Wuss’s smile get even bigger. “You see?” He sounded happy. “Friends!”

Seifer pulled his pillow over his face. The warmth in Zell’s face was too much and too confusing and too deep for Seifer to deal with right now. “Arguing with an idiot only brings you down to their level,” he grumbled. “Now go away. I need to rest.”

“Can’t sleep yet! You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast! Plus, you can’t let that hot dog go to waste!” Gloved hands tried to pull the pillow away.

“Just smother me now and get it over with!”

“C’mon! Food time!”

“I don’t want to eat that disgusting mass of processed food! Put me out of my misery already!”

“ _Boys_.”

Seifer peeked out from under his pillow. Dr Kadowaki stood in the door, trying to look stern, but the entertainment in her eyes ruined the effect—for Seifer, that was. Zell scrambled off the bed and had the guilty expression of someone who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Since you’re obviously feeling _better_ , perhaps tomorrow you would like to go back to your own room, Seifer.”

“Really? He’s good enough to be released?!” The bimbo started bouncing. “That’s _great_! We should, ya’know, celebrate!”

“A celebration might be in order. Considering the amount of damage you sustained, you shouldn’t even be alive right now, much less in one piece.” She fixed him with a steady stare. “You’re one lucky person, young man.”

“Obviously not lucky enough,” Seifer grumbled, glaring at Zell, who, for some reason blushed and looked at his feet.

“I’ll draw up a schedule for some physical therapy for you and arrange an exercise regime for you to follow. And I’ll talk with the Headmaster about allowing you to have time for you to rest throughout the day.” She paused at the door. “No more roughhousing of _any_ sorts. I mean it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Zell muttered, face still pink.

Seifer waved his hand dismissively, deciding he was too tired to argue the point. He was going to be able to leave this damn room and right now, that was the most important thing. Once this was all over, he was going to figure out how to use this entire thing to his advantage. Maybe he could make his guards into some Sherpas or something...

Or he could just make the Wuss do all of his biddings. It could be fun. Easy, too.

No time like the present.

“Are activities like say, vacuuming out?” Seifer asked.

The doctor eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

“’Cuz my room’s going to be all dusty from me not cleaning it recently and I don’t like breathing in dust.”

Zell immediately started bouncing. “Don’t you worry! I’ll got Fu and Rai to help me clean it out! It’ll be cleaner than a hospital! You’ll be able ta eat off of the floor!”

Dr Kadowaki rolled her eyes as Seifer settled back and smirked to himself. In a few moments, he’d not only get the Chicken to go away, but he’d get a free maid service out of the deal.

Life was good.

  
_x Fin x_   



End file.
